Cold White
by Jackson Hanning
Summary: Cold. That is all he knows. But in what may be his final moments... he sees his family. Sweden, Finland, Sealand, Denmark, Norway, Iceland. Christmas Oneshot


Cold.

Everything is cold.

Shivering, teeth chattering, breath shuddering. Wind howling and snow falling. These are the only sounds I hear.

Cold. Deathly cold. The worse cold I've ever experienced. And I'm used to cold.

I lay perfectly still in the snow. Well, except for my shivering. I try my best to breathe steadily. The cold is overwhelming. I don't think I can take it much longer.

I begin to drift. My mind slips out of consciousness into a state somewhere between awake and asleep.

I see a family. My family. In my dreams, they are there. I watch from the outside... I still feel the cold seeping into my body. But inside the dream it is warm and perfect.

* * *

"Berwald, why don't you lift Peter to put the star on top?" the cheerful blond implores.

"Mkay, Tino," replies the tall, stoic Berwald.

"Daddy, daddy, I've got the star!" A small child runs up to the almost menacing man with a comfortable grin on his face. He readies himself to be picked up, a large, gold star clasped between his hands. The big man picks him up with an unforeseen gentleness and lefts him within reach of the top of the tall pine tree.

"How's that, guys?" Peter asks cheerfully, still hoisted high in the air. "Mama?"

"It's perfect Peter!" Tino exclaims.

"What do you think, Uncle Denmark?"

"Looks great, kiddo!" replies a tall man with strangely styled blond hair. He gives a nudge to the expressionless man seated beside him. "It's great, right Norge?"

"Superb," Norway replies in his emotionless monotone. "Reminds me of when my little brother used to be lifted to the top of the tree to put the star on top."

"Shut up," snaps the aforementioned little brother.

"Don't you remember, Iceland?"

"Stop calling me that," Iceland snaps again. "You freaks are enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Aww, c'mon Icey! It's Christmas! Everyone's supposed to be fucking happy and reminiscent!"

"L'nguage, D'nmark," Berwald scolds. "Pet'r c'n hear you."

"What, like I'm the potty mouth? Look who his mum is!"

"Matthias!" Tino said indignantly.

"Just because you swear in Finnish doesn't mean it ain't swearing!" Denmark exclaimed.

"Mum, you swear in Finnish?" Peter asked, his eyes wide. He was once again on the ground, now hanging ornaments from the rest of the tree limbs.

"No, Peter," Tino replied, glaring at Denmark. "And don't you dare listen to a thing your Uncle Mattias teaches you, got it?"

"Got it, Mama!" Peter smiled.

"C'mon, Peter! You're the Principality of Sealand! You gonna let silly old Finland boss you around like that?"

"Peter is a good boy who listens to his parents," Finland inserted firmly. "And he's a boy who will be short one foul-mouthed uncle from now on if he starts taking up that kind of language, _Denmark_."

Denmark laughed heartily. "It's just a little fun, Finny. Don't be such a stick i røven!"

Denmark received a swift thump on the back of the head from Norway.

"M'TTIAS."

"Calm down, Swe. I'm just joking!" Denmark rubbed the back of his head. "Thanks a lot, Lukas. That hurt."

"It was supposed to," Norway stated.

"You're all insane," Iceland added.

* * *

It is still cold, but I don't notice it. I tell myself the memory is warming me up, but I think the real reason is my limbs are going numb. _I am going to die_.

The single thought running through my head is most likely true. And if it is true, then it is okay. I turn my mind to other things. If I am going to die... I want to die with those I love. So I fade into another memory.

* * *

"I think I love you."

"You think?"

"No. I know I do."

"Hmm."

"It doesn't matter if you say it. I know you love me back."

"Good."

"Would be nice to hear it, though. Just once."

"Just once? I should save it for a special occasion then."

"You could say it more if you want. I'm not setting the limit."

"Hmm."

Arms pull me tighter, and I focus on their warmth. Our bed is toasty warm, thanks to him. "I really do love you."

* * *

_"I know. And I love you too."_

"NORWAY!?"

I focus on the warm chest beating in my ear... the strong arms wrapped around me.

"NORWAY!"

_"I love you, Denmark."_

"LUKAS?"

The dream is gone. I've stopped shivering. I can't anymore. I can't feel my legs.

"LUKAS, CAN YOU HEAR ME? LUKAS!"

"UNCLE NORWAY!"

"NORGE?"

I hear them. They're looking for me. I want to call out to them. I can't.

"OH MY GOD, LUKAS!"

A puff of snow in my face as something drops into the snow beside me. I stare at a pair of knees in my line of vision. I can't shift my gaze. I feel something moving over me, brushing the snow away. A deep, worried voice sounds above me. "Lukas? Lukas, can you hear me? Lukas!"

_Denmark_.

More voices join in. I see feet. Boots. One giant black pair, two smaller pairs – one in blue one in white – and a child's pair in brown. They're all here. Sweden, Finland, Iceland, Sealand. And Denmark.

"Big brother?"

_Emil, I love you. I love you little brother._

"Uncle Norway?"

_I love you Peter. Take care of your mama and papa. And your idiot uncle Denmark._

"St'nd back, Pet'r... Emil."

"Is he conscious?"

_Berwald. Tino._

"Lukas, if you can hear me..."

_I can't hear you, Matthias. And you can't hear me. I love you._

I feel a pair of strong arms lift me out of the snow. I hear the crunch as my frozen coat disengages from the rest of the snowbank. My gaze makes it to Denmark's tired, worried face, focused on mine. _I love you, Mattias Køhler._

I am with my family. And with that thought, all fades into brilliant white.


End file.
